My driving license was going to expire this month, so I went to the DMV Monday to give myself a couple days in case my paperwork is rejected (which is a very real possibility in NJ). My husband had to go back three times and he has talked to others and no one was able to get their driving license the first time so I wanted to make sure I had enough days to gather the necessary paperwork. I had most of it assembled because of my trip to Canada and I had checked the website and thought I had everything that I needed. I hate going to the DMV, so I didn’t want to go there more than once. It feels like I leave the US and enter the Soviet Union everytime I go there.
We get there around 12:00 and I go up to the information booth and the woman directs me to the desk I need to go to. At that desk I get a number, I’m 61 and they’re on 26. So we wait. I warned my daughters before we left the house to bring something to read and we sit there reading until my number is called an hour later. I hand over what I thought was a marriage license (since it says marriage license on it) but it turns out it’s only a receipt. I say, “It says license and this is what they gave us when we were married.” It’s just a receipt was the reply. So, I silently put my paperwork away as the guy is blathering on about where to get a license and at the end he says, “Ok?” I just turn away and say to my girls, “This is what a bureaucracy is like” and I walk away. Samantha said later that he treated me like a child (which is normal in these places — they are very unprofessional). I decide not to waste my time asking why the heck they make a person wait an hour to find out that their paperwork isn’t acceptable. What a brain dead process and since there is no incentive to be innovative, it is a process that will continue.
We stop for lunch and then go to Target and while we do this, I call my husband and mom for phone numbers so that I can get the right marriage license from the municipality that we were married in. I could get it the next day, so I tell the girls we are going to the beach after I pick up my license and there is a DVM not too far from the city hall and the beach.
When Doug gets home, he suggests we check the safe to make sure that we didn’t miss the marriage license when we were looking for paperwork for my trip to Canada . We find what I need buried at the bottom of the safe (hidden under multiple copies of our will) and I even find a copy of my birth certificate with my little baby feet on the back and a raised seal, I add it to my collection of documents to be on the safe side.
The next day we get ready for the beach but we get out later than I wanted (I even had to turn back after driving for 15 minutes because I forgot my camera). We get to the DMV and it is a very busy place and guess who is standing right in front of the DMV? Larouche supporters! Can you believe that there is anyone dumb enough to still support this guy? And what was so funny was they had a sign that said that Bush was dumber than a rock (oh my gosh, rocks and glass houses, guys). As we were going in, they attempted to engage me in conversation and I’m in a hurry and just give him my cold stare that I reserve for daughters who talk back to me one too many times and say, “There is just no way” but he persists and I just wave him away and enter the building. I’m here on a quest to get my license and I will not be distracted by the delusional.
I go to the reception desk and she directs me to the next desk. At that desk I’m asked if I have my paperwork, and I answer with an emphatic and confident, “yes!” She directs me to the guy next to her. I hand him my birth certificate (the one with the cute baby feet and raised seal) and he says that it wasn’t the right one. But I will not be denied a license this day, oh no you don’t! I coldly and triumphantly whipped out my other birth certificate with the raised seal that I used when I got married (my mom had lost my original birth and I had to get a new one from the city of Boston and then she found it years later and gave it to me) and for good measure said, “Here is my social security card and a proof of address. I’m not leaving here without a license.” He looked at me and silently processed my paperwork and handed it all back to me with a number. I did it!!! I knew I was in. Ha! And it only took two tries. I beat the system at it’s own game! Take that bureaucrat, you have been vanquished.
So, I wait five minutes, a woman calls my number (good thing Samantha was with me or I wouldn’t have known it was called), she looked at my paperwork and sent me to the cashier/photographer. I paid the $24 (which I think is a bargain because I’ll have the license for 4 years). I stand next to the blue screen and smile as commanded by Samantha (“make sure you smile, Mommy”) and I get to accept or reject my photo. It’s not bad, so I accept it. I actually look younger in this photo than I did 4 years ago.
With driving license in hand, we triumphantly leave the DMV only to be confronted by this “Maybe we should bring the troops home and send Dick Cheney over there instead.” And I laugh at the idiotcy of the remark and walk away. I won’t let the insanity of a Laurochee spoil my triumph. I have a driving license in the state of NJ and I won’t have to do this again for 4 more years. Yes! I’m golden.
Off to the beach, but first we have to stop at Barnes and Noble because Sarah finished the book she brought with her. Then we pick up subs from Jersey Mike’s and then it’s off to the beach where we spend the day being blasted by the wind. The water was really cold, so we didn’t go into the ocean much. But we enjoyed ourselves. Here are some shots:


We meet my parents and sister for dinner at the Windmill and had ice cream afterward at the Lighthouse. Then we hit the Borders on the way home because Sarah had almost finished her book. I bought a couple mysteries and this book.
It was a good day and I have to say that, though there are way too many people working at these DMVs with very little work to show for it, I think I was out of there in record time (only fifteen minutes). Not bad for NJ.